Canned tamales, a frozen Banquet Chicken Pot Pie, baked beans … Happy Thanksgiving!

Holy shit, what a week we’ve had.

Sam’s four-day fever finally broke early Tuesday morning — hallelujah! — allowing him to stand on his feet for more than 30 seconds without crumbling and even hold a brief conversation.

We’ve decided to postpone Thanksgiving for a couple of days because Sam has a toothache.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! It’s a few minutes after 8 a.m. and I hope you’ll indulge me for a moment so I can post my annual tacky holiday graphic.

Thanksgiving is meaningless for us now as a “foodie” holiday. Blintzes, anyone?

Know what’s really fucked-up? I was just online Googling random shit in the middle of the night and decided to click a link to a website about the early warning signs of Multiple Sclerosis. Incidentally … NEVER DO THIS, dear readers, because you’ll always find a way to convince yourself that you’ve got whatever deadly disease — and designer drug — they’re selling today.

I’m doing yams tomorrow for our Annual Festival of Leftovers.

It’s Thursday, November 24 — Thanksgiving 2016 — but it’s a little too early to start thinking about what time to throw our bird in the oven as it’s only 4:30 a.m. and I’ve got Hormel Compleats meatloaf and mashed potatoes in the microwave on my desk. I’m starving. I briefly considered a couple of pretzel rods but desperately wanted something with gravy. A nice portrait of the aforementioned meatloaf appears below.

How many of you didn’t realize, like me, that Thanksgiving is only one week from today?

It’s the wee hours of Thursday morning here at Howdygram headquarters. Sam is in bed and I’m wide awake with pain issues. These include: 1) burning and pinching skin pain on the back of my thighs; 2) a bleeding blister on the back of my left thigh; 3) a rotten rash in a variety of locations that are none of your business; and 4) I can’t think of anything else at the moment but you’ll be the first to know if this changes, okay? In the meantime I think I’ll just sit here and whine for a while.

Yee-haw! It’s Thanksgiving!

Good morning, how’s the family and HAPPY THANKSGIVING from your friends at Howdygram headquarters! While Sam and I wait impatiently for our turkey pick-up time at Boston Market, I will use this opportunity to announce that a shitload of rain is heading our way — four whole days of it — kicking off the festivities with a line of thunderstorms around 3:30 this afternoon. And the entire Dallas metro area is already under a Flood Watch due to our pathetic creeks spill over their banks even if somebody just spits at them.

Happy holidays, goddamn it.

Good morning and HAVE A REALLY HAPPY VETERANS DAY to all of you camo-lovers out there in Howdygramland! The only real military veteran I ever knew close-up was my father, who served in World War II. Here he is — looking very adorable at age 23 — in London in 1943 as a lieutenant navigator for the Army Air Corps.

Are you shopping? Are you spending? Are you having any fun?

So here’s what’s happening at 4 a.m. on the day after Thanksgiving: NOTHING WHATSOEVER. I tried going to bed a couple of hours ago but that didn’t work out very well; I got up about 30 minutes later and moved my carcass into the study to read, horse around online and drink a Marcytini. I figure I’ll hang out here and annoy you until I’m ready to get some sleep, maybe another hour or so. (You can thank me later.)

Eating, belching and sleeping. Another perfect Thanksgiving bites the dust.

This had to be Howdygram headquarters’ fastest and most forgettable Thanksgiving on record. After Sam consumed his annual apple pie as an hors d’oeuvres at 2 p.m., we ate our official meal at 3:30, belched for 14 minutes and fell asleep watching Angels in the Outfield (1951) starring Paul Douglas and Janet Leigh. At some point I vaguely remember muttering to Sam about wrapping the rest of the turkey in foil and shoving it in the fridge, and apparently he heard me because that’s where it ended up.

Marshmallow Santas are the only healthy snack I can eat in the middle of the night without teeth.

It’s 3:45 a.m., Sam is asleep and I’m enjoying a pleasant Howdygram interlude with Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas and a Marcytini. I’ll probably go back to bed eventually, but for now I’m perfectly okay with this arrangement due to marshmallow Santas being the only healthy snack I can eat in the middle of the night without teeth.

It’s time once again for Sam & Marcy’s Annual Untraditional Thanksgiving Hoo-hah.

Hello again. It’s almost 7 a.m. and I’ve been sitting here in the study since 4:15 for two very good reasons: 1) it’s impossible to sleep with a stuffed nose; and 2) shitty feet. I’ve managed to fritter away a decent chunk of the last three hours redesigning and uploading the Howdygram’s attractive little subheads (see below) and blowing my nose. On the plus side, thank God the twisted hip pain I reported on Sunday finally subsided because a senior citizen can only stand so much aggravation.

The Howdygram recommends two movies with confused characters and atrocious accents.

Shalom, howdy and good afternoon, people! It’s another damn chilly day in Howdygramland, about 36° as I write this post, but I’m warmed by the anticipation of another nap as soon as I can drag my ass back into the family room. I only had TWO SHITTY HOURS OF SLEEP last night and I’m attempting to make up for lost time. Try to keep the noise down, okay? I am very, very unpleasant when I’m exhausted.